


Punch

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 2 [7]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: it turns your tongue blue for God's sake :)





	Punch

They were knee deep in trash talk by seven that night and eyeball deep in the special punch by nine. Mulder purposely did not sit beside Scully, knowing the liquor would only fuel his non-appropriate touching of his partner and with that many others present, he didn’t want to be run from the house by a bunch of drunken, umbrella-wielding Grannies with a purpose. Scully, for most of the same reasons chose to sit across the table and didn’t question when he took the seat opposite her.

Problem was, his long legs found her.

Granted, it wasn’t until he was a good dozen sheets to the wind but still able to put together an impressive run that his foot came in contact with her. All bets were off, so to speak, at that point, his socked toe running along her trim ankle bone, the edge of her pants, the parabolic curve of her gym sh – wait … she’s arrived at Maggie’s wearing sweatpants that stopped at the knees, his vague recollection being she had refused to put real pants on because they’d just be sleeping there anyways and no one cared what she wore. She’d also left her shoes at the door.

Shifting focus from his cards to his partner, he saw her still looking down, intent on remembering numerical order. A glance sideways revealed Lillian with a sizable grin on her face, discreetly pointing to her right, mouthing, “one more than way,” while she re-arranged her cards in an attempt not to laugh.

His overly loud, ‘thank you’ brought the table to a halt, Maggie questioning him, “Fox?”

Swinging his head in her direction, “sorry. I was just thanking Lillian for telling me where Scully’s leg was under the table.” Plowing ahead, “apparently, I’ve been rubbing the wrong ankle for the last few seconds … minutes …” His face contorted to embarrassed, “it’s only been a second, right? It felt like seconds, please, Scully, I’m sorry, it’s only been a second.”

Having had absolutely no idea that there was a conversation happening and her ankle was the main talking point, she looked up at the sound of her name, doing her best to re-focus on human instead of spade, “what?”

Lillian quietly slid Scully’s glass towards Maggie, “I think she needs some more punch.”

“Oh, please no. My tongue went numb a half hour ago.” Sticking it out to survey the blue end, “you should not let me have anymore of anything because I cannot feel my tongue and I would probably spill if I tried to drink.” The sentence structure was there and she was proud of that but when everyone began gently chuckling, she surveyed them blurrily, eyebrows scrunched in mock reprimand, “what? Why are you laughing?”

Mulder raised his hand like he was seven again, then leaned back in his chair, pointing at her with his floating fingers, “it’s ‘cause you’ve lost your contractions. Once you get really soused, you stop using apofrat … apostrap … astoprophes … shit … those hanging things that make words shorter and less longer.” Suddenly gazing into his cup, “what the hell is in this punch?”

Betty stood, poured Scully some more, then handed her a straw from the counter, “try this, hon.”

Scully tentatively sucked, then making sure to swallow before she spoke, “it is a straw! I love straws! My tongue is numb but the muscles of my throat are not and my cheeks know just what to do and I can suck up the punch and not dribble it back out!” Giving the table a happy smile, “physics is fun.”

Janet gave Maggie a look, “think we should cut them off after this?”

“Definitely.”

Shaking her head, talking around her straw “do not talk about cutting. I have cut enough people up this week and do not want to do anymore cutting.” Losing then recapturing the straw, “also, no one say anything about butter knives.”

Mulder captured both her feet in his, forgetting there were witnesses, “hey, noone’s doing any cutting tonight, I promise. He’s dead and we don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Leaning across the table, he took her cup and put it down, taking her hands in his, “look at me. Scully, look at me.” Once she did, her eyes swimming in liquor and hanging on his every word, “we’re playing cards and we’re at your mom’s house, all right? Parker was way back in Wyoming two cases ago so he’s already been buried and can’t hurt anyone again. I promise. Remember? I shot him myself.”

Untangling one hand, she gently tapped her forehead, “right here.”

“Right there. One shot, no mess. Dead before he hit the ground.”

Suddenly, she took in deep breath, chuffing it out quickly before nodding, “he will not hurt me or anyone again.” Holding onto his hands a second longer, she gave him a secret smile, “all I need is a diamond six and I am going to win this hand.”

First to recover from the last sobering minute, Ruth looked over at Scully’s cards, “Dana, you don’t even have the right number of cards in your hand and you aren’t collecting diamonds at all.”

Pulling back to sit upright, she stared at the table, “well … son of a bitch.”

Tension broke for the most part, they continued on, Maggie switching her daughter to water seamlessly while Mulder twined his feet in the rung of Scully’s chair and she climbed her toes up his shins until she was resting comfortably on his thighs. Playing with one hand while massaging her instep with the other, he lost every round for the next 40 minutes until he watched, in slow motion, as Scully’s head drifted to the table top, settling gently on the hardwood.

Ellie gave him a smile and turning Scully slightly so she wasn’t breathing in oak, whispered over to Maggie, “should we put these two to bed?”

Off in his own Scully world by now, he heard the word ‘bed’ drift in and blinking slow, forced his mouth to form the word ‘hammock’ before licking his lips, tired from his lengthy speech. Maggie nodded, “yeah, we should get them to bed. Ruthie, if you could go get the comforter, I’ll run up for the pillows.”

Soon, with the considerable help of the rest of them, Mulder and Scully were bundled in the hammock, tangled together, breathing deep and soundly asleep.

Back at the table, the game continued, punch exchanged for water and coffee, talk less boisterous than before, “does Dana ever tell you about her cases?”

Maggie shook her head, “very rarely. She slips sometimes, like tonight but normally, she keeps me well away from their work.”

“Do you know if that man hurt her? Fox said something that makes me think he did. Did she mention anything to you?”

Looking each woman in turn, “Dana doesn’t tell me things like that unless the injuries are visible. Even then, only when I demand an answer. Sometimes, it’s not worth the look in her eye to find out where the bruise came from or why she’s moving a little slower than usual.”

“Look in her eye?”

Maggie shuffled the pile of cards in her hand, slowly dealing them out, “the pleading look begging me to shut the hell up and talk about the grandkids instead or how the garden is growing.”

There wasn’t any sort of appropriate response to her statement and none tried to give any, knowing, from hints few and far between, that her daughter skirted the line of life and death daily, no need to delve further when fear was a constant state. Instead, Lillian to the rescue, “so, Maggie, want to fight me for the last donut?”

None of them could chase away the butter knife and bullet conversation, however, regardless of light-hearted small talk and soon, the game broke up, leftover punch, the tablespoon still in the pitcher, poured down the drain before goodnights were said and hugs were given. Once the house was empty, Maggie wandered to the back porch, standing over her Dana’n’Fox, the lightest of touches moving hair from foreheads and tucking in blankets.

Scully opened her eyes just as Maggie silently watched and not sure whether she was dreaming or not, met her mother’s dark eyes, “my tongue still numb.”

Feeling instantly better about the world, Maggie nodded down at her daughter, “you’ll be fine in the morning. G’night.”

“’Night, Mama.”


End file.
